


A Life Free of Lies

by leyley09



Series: What They Call Love Is A Risk [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Couch Cuddles, Couch Sex, Honesty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 10:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12629412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leyley09/pseuds/leyley09
Summary: They’ve never really talked about that beautiful disaster of a month, but that needs to come to an end today.





	A Life Free of Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This took a wee bit longer than I was expecting to really feel done, but I'm happy with it today. I think I caught all the loose threads left at the end of ILFOY (except Andre and Nick, I know, I'm getting to them), and it gave me the perfect excuse to throw in one more of my very favorite "canon" moments because HOW COULD I NOT.
> 
> If this doesn't answer a question you left ILFOY with, let me know! :)
> 
>  

There are boxes at the bottom of Tom’s closet that have possibly not been opened since he left his parent’s house some five and a half years ago.

Most of them are labeled in what Mike assumes is Neville’s handwriting, since it’s legible:  _ hockey equipment, books, electronics _ . He sets some aside to open and sort through. They have limited space; he’s not storing a box of outdated devices that Tom doesn’t even remember how to use.

Behind all of them is a smaller box that’s just been folded shut instead of closed and taped. It looks sort of familiar, but it’s not until he catches a glimpse of a scrap of Batman-print wrapping paper on one edge that he figures out what it is - the disastrous birthday gift he gave Tom six months ago.

“Tommy!”

 

******

 

He finds Tom in the kitchen, making a sandwich.

“Look what I found in your closet.” He drops the box on the counter next to him. 

The double take Tom does is almost sitcom-worthy as he jerks away from the box so violently he almost knocks over the mustard.

“Why was this wedged so far back into the closet it was fusing with the wall?”

“Must have fallen behind some stuff.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but he’s putting just a little too much effort into not looking at the box. Or at Mike.

He’s gotten a lot better about reading Tom recently, once he got to see what Tom’s honest reactions to things look like, so he knows full well that Tom does not want to talk about this. Tom would be more than happy to take his sandwich somewhere else and pretend there’s not a box sitting on the counter.

However, if he’s learned nothing in the last several months, it’s that he and Tom absolutely have to talk about things frankly, directly, painfully honestly. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Especially if it’s uncomfortable. They nearly fucked this up before it started, so they don’t get the luxury of brushing things under the rug. They’ve never really talked about that beautiful disaster of a month, but that needs to come to an end today.

“Look, baby, we need to talk about this. We’ve both been ignoring it because we managed to pull our heads out of our asses, but I need you to explain to me why you were so upset about this blanket. I don’t--” He has to stop to breathe for a second, to shake off memories of a couple of the worst nights of his life. “I don’t ever want to do that to you again, so I need you to help me out here.”

“It was never about the fucking blanket, Mike.” Tom gives up on his sandwich and just...sags is really the only word for it. He wraps his arms around his chest, glaring somehow sadly at the floor. “I don’t even know what I thought was going to be in there. But after the zoo, I just had the crazy idea that you’d finally figured it out that I wasn’t faking, that I really wanted to be with you. And that Saturday….” He chokes to a stop.

“Hey,” Mike reaches over and pries one of his hands lose. “C’mon, let’s try this.”  He tows Tom along behind him into the living room, settling into the corner of the couch and pulling Tom in to snuggle. “Okay, continue please.”

Tom sniffles into his shirt. “I wasn’t planning on the sex. I just wanted an excuse to touch you, and it’s creepy and weird, I know, but you’d actually let me if we were asleep. You were so tense every time I touched you in front of my parents, but when you were sleeping, I could hold your hand without feeling like I was going to break one of your fingers. And then, well, you know what happened. I just got carried away, but you went right along with me, and I knew-I know you aren’t into casual sex. I assumed that meant I was right, that you’d figured it out and that you actually wanted to be with me too. It was the best present I could have imagined, and I was so happy.”

Mike suddenly has a vague memory of Tom curling up behind him, mumbling something about presents. He wants very badly to slap himself in his memory, like that would do any good. Instead, he squeezes Tom a little tighter while he tries not to cry.

It takes him a few shaky breaths to pick back up. “I was so happy, and I didn’t know what was in the box, but I was so sure it was going to be something sappy and romantic and everyone would ‘aww’, and-- and-- and then instead it was this random thing that I could have bought myself whenever and you were talking about me not stealing yours anymore. It was like someone threw a bucket of ice water over my head.”

“What was the point of stealing mine all the time?” Mike asks quietly.

“It smelled like you.”

“What?” he asks faintly.

“Before we, well before, it was the best I could do. I didn’t think I could actually get you to, to cuddle with me or, well, anything else, so with that I could kind of pretend.”

And now he owes Nicky an apology, too. That reason had certainly never occurred to past!Mike.

“So later, before you stormed out, were you just upset, disappointed that I hadn’t figured it out yet?”

“Well, yeah, to start with. I felt like I’d laid all my feelings out on the floor and you’d jumped all over them. You’d never complained about sharing things with me before, but suddenly you didn’t want me touching your stuff? Then, you made things a million times worse -- you accused me of having sex with you just to lie to my parents, like you thought I would do that to you, let alone to them.” He sniffs again, rubs his nose on Mike’s shirt. “You hadn’t just hurt my feelings, Mike. You broke my heart.”

“In my defense, you hadn’t ever indicated an interest in sleeping with me before. I was working with the information I had.”

Tom sits up at that, a look of almost comical disbelief on his face. “What are you talking about ‘never indicated’? Since fucking when? I hit on you five minutes after we met!”

“What? You did not!”

“Well you might not have noticed, but I did. All the way through dinner. You got up to go the bathroom before we left, right? I got a whole lecture from Brooks about knocking it off while you were gone because he didn’t think you’d let me move in if we’d slept together.”

That’s gonna take a minute (or a thousand) to process properly, but that can wait.

The point of doing this here was to be touching, so he tugs one of Tom’s hands free from where he’s pulling at his sweatshirt. “Fine, so you hit on me and I missed it. We’d been living together for a year without it coming up again.”

“It wasn’t like I didn’t want to, jesus, have you seen yourself?” He gestures at Mike’s general everything with his free hand. “But Brooks was right, you didn’t do that with people you weren’t dating, so I figured I could wait until you noticed how perfect we are for each other. But Mike, babe, you’re  _ so slow _ .”

Mike would laugh at his dramatic complaint, but -- yeah, he is.

“I didn’t create the situation, okay, it just kinda happened. I would have told my mom the truth right at first, if I could have gotten a word in, but then I forgot because she never used the word ‘boyfriend’ about you. She caught me off guard about their visit, but I thought about it after she hung up. It was like a win-win situation, right? My mom’s not disappointed in me, and I’d have all these opportunities to show you how good we could be. It seemed like a great plan.” He looks down at their clasped hands.

“Except…”

“Except I didn’t factor in you.”

Mike squeezes his hand. “I knew it was going to be weird, pretending that I was pretending that I was in love with you. But I didn’t realize how difficult it would be, getting a taste of everything I wanted, knowing it was going to end, and thinking that you didn’t really mean it.” 

Tom lifts watery blue eyes to meet Mike’s. “I’m so sorry, babe, I didn’t--”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to. I never thought you meant to. It was just a fucking mess, okay? We’re both sorry that we hurt each other, yeah?”

Tom nods vigorously.

“And we’re not going to do that again, right?”

“Never.”

“Then you don’t have to apologize for that again.”

Tom sighs with far more relief than Mike is expecting. He leans in to kiss Mike’s forehead and lay his head on Mike’s shoulder. “So we’re done with that?”

“Not quite.”

“Dammit.” Tom squirms around, pushing at Mike until he’s comfortable again. “What else?”

“The day after your parents left, why did you leave?”

“Because I couldn't pretend everything was okay. You were sitting there making jokes about it while I was sitting here with my heart in a million pieces. And I couldn't tell you what was wrong, I thought you wanted everything back the way it was before. But I also knew you wouldn't leave it alone, even if you were nicer about asking the next time. Eventually you'd wear me down, and then everything really would be ruined. I don’t really have any defenses against you, Mike, I never have. My only option is retreat.”

It’s Mike’s turn for forehead kissing. “Nicky, Brooks, they kept telling me to talk to you, tell you the truth. I was just so sure I was right about your feelings that they had to be wrong. Their suspicions -- they weren’t enough for me to risk losing you over. And then I went and lost you anyway, and it was my own fucking fault for overreacting. I couldn’t even try to blame anyone else -- I pushed when I knew I shouldn’t, I yelled when I didn’t get my way like some kind of toddler. I didn’t even have a good excuse, just, all my filters were gone, any claim I had on being a rational adult was lost somewhere in the void.”

“You hadn’t lost me, you know.”

“What?”

“I never thought I was leaving forever.” Tom tips his head back against Mike’s shoulder and smiles. “I was always going to come back. I needed some space, but I wasn’t giving up on you.”

“No?”

“I wanted you from the minute I saw you for the first time, but it was all over for me the time we walked into the building and ran into the Andersons’ puppies. You dropped to the floor in a split second, were covered in puppies immediately, and your laugh made my chest hurt. You looked up at me with a stupid grin and an armful of dogs, and I’d never seen anything I wanted more in my whole life. And not just you, but you looking at me like that, forever. I’d never thought forever about anyone before, but I couldn’t stop thinking it about you. You’re slow, sure, but totally worth waiting for.”

Mike has no idea what to say to that. He remembers the Andersons’ puppies. That was a month after Tom moved in. At least a month before Mike’s own epiphany. Really, the only thing he can come up with at the moment is-- “I love you.”

Tom’s grin grows even wider as he leans up for kiss.

“What made you decide to finally tell me? I mean, I was going to tell you, but you came home with a plan.”

Tom actually giggles. “Andre must have told me a dozen times to just tell you. He’s the one who said the ‘can I be your boyfriend for real’ thing, trying to show me how easy it would be to do. He called me the day after I left, told me I was an idiot, you were crazy about me and really upset that I was gone. He totally ratted you out about sleeping on the couch, by the way. Everybody at the bar lectured me after you left that night - has Lindsey ever apologized for dumping a tray of drinks on you?”

“She did that on purpose?”

“Of course she did, you think she doesn’t know how to walk through a crowd with a full tray? She figured it was the only way to keep you from doing something stupid.”

Mike shrugs as best he can with Tom’s head on his shoulder. “She’s probably right.”

Tom snorts. “Then Wardo just came right out and showed me your texts. That’s when I finally started to think maybe everyone wasn’t crazy. Because you didn’t say ‘I always want him to come home’, you said ‘I always want him’. I wanted to believe them, I really did. I just needed something more.”

“The video.”

Tom blushes and grins, looking away like Mike can’t see how fucking pleased he still is about that. “I couldn’t believe you put that up where everyone could see it. You told everyone we know that you’d be a mess without me. You’d been sleeping on the couch for a week, and well, Andre kinda told me how fucked up you’d been.”

“Is that why you were checking on me all week?”

“Well, sort of. The first time, I just needed more clothes. I came in here, and it was a disaster. I’d never seen you leave the place quite that bad. So I picked stuff up. It wasn’t until I went into the bedroom with the blanket that I realized you were the one sleeping on the couch. I figured it was just the after-effects of the bar.” 

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Yeah, that’s what Andre said.”

“Were you getting like hourly updates or something?”

Tom giggles again. “Just about. I came by on Wednesday because he texted me that you’d had a bad day Tuesday. I wanted to see if he was serious about the couch.”

“And you left me your shirt.”

Tom sort of shrugs. “When I pulled out more shirts for myself, it fell out of the dresser onto the floor. After watching you charm my parents in it, I couldn’t really imagine wearing it myself. Wasn’t really a hint for you to put it on immediately, but I liked the picture.”

Mike rolls his eyes at Tom’s not so subtle leer. “So you had all this evidence I was kind of a mess, then I put that up and admitted it.”

“Exactly. That’s why I decided to come home. I talked to Andre for a long time that night--”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Right. So I was talking to him, and he repeated the ‘can I be your boyfriend for real’ thing. It triggered this whole, like, flashback thing to the story you told my parents. I know it was totally sappy, but--”

“But what?”

“I wanted to show you I remembered,” Tom whispers, face nearly buried in Mike’s chest.

“It was pretty sappy,” Mike says. And then pauses until he sees a frown creeping across the little bit of Tom’s face that is visible. “Sappy, but perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Dude, you made me cry. Yes, it was perfect.”

Tom beams at him, a light up the whole eastern seaboard grin. Mike can see the twinkle in his eyes shifting into something that’s going to be trouble.

“You know we were actually getting somewhere on this couch before you decided we should clean up after ourselves for the first time ever.”

“Yes, well--” Mike gets interrupted by Tom sitting up and climbing into his lap.

“I demand a do-over.”

“Really.”

“Yes. This has made me very emotional, and I think you should make me feel better.”

Mike snorts. “I suppose you have some ideas on how I should do that?”

“Well,” Tom says, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “If I remember right, we started out something like this.”

Six months later, Mike is still not tired of Tom pinning him to things. He weighs Mike down in the best possible way, keeping him in place, safe from the rest of the world. It is the complete opposite of a hardship to have a lapful of Tom Wilson.

He worms his hands up under Tom’s shirt, following the goosebumps that shiver out away from his fingers. He can just barely feel the raised lines of the scratches he left last night; judging by Tom’s moan, so can he.

When Tom finally pulls away, gasping for breath, he’s already starting to flush. It’s a good fucking look, and Mike is so grateful he gets to see it.

“You know,” he says, a little breathless himself, “you don’t always have to kiss me like it’s the last time. I’m not going anywhere either. You are fucking stuck with me now.”

That has completely the opposite effect of what he was intending. Instead of slowing Tom down, it seems to push him even further into urgent. With the speed at which he’s removing their clothes, Mike is not going to complain or interrupt. He’s just along for the ride now.

Possibly literally.

“Since when are we keeping lube in our living room?” This seems like a valid question; they have company that sits on this couch, and he doesn’t even want to imagine what would happen if any of their friends found that.

“Um, well, you see --” 

“Never mind, don’t tell me, just don’t leave it there.”

Tom rolls his eyes - which doesn’t mean he’s going to listen - and goes back to what he’s doing. Mike can’t see from here, but he’s seen it before. Even thinking about it makes his heart pound harder, faster.

They haven’t found a bad way to do this, not really, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have favorites. This is definitely one of them, particularly for Tom and especially in the broad daylight of their living room. He likes it best when he can see Mike’s face, and it seems to be just a bonus that this puts him in the perfect place for Mike to bite at those spots on his collarbone that drive him crazy.

In contrast to Tom’s earlier urgency, once he’s ready he takes his time settling onto Mike’s lap. He seems to be in no rush, rocking back and forth oh-so-slowly as they kiss. He is, as usual, driving Mike crazy.

“Tommy, please move.”

Tom just smirks and kisses him again. He does give in eventually, still moving more slowly than Mike would like, dragging this out like they really do have the rest of their lives. Mike doesn’t really have the leverage to persuade him to speed up, pinned as he is, but he makes a good effort, using his teeth, his tongue, his nails to his advantage. 

He’s never once pretended - even to himself - that the noises Tom makes aren’t one of the best parts of this, and today’s soundtrack seems particularly loud. There’s almost an echo bouncing back at him that’s rapidly becoming overwhelming.

It must be overwhelming for Tom also. “Mike- babe- please-” He doesn’t manage a specific request, but Mike recognizes that particular whine, deep in his throat and totally involuntary. He loosens his grip on Tom’s thigh to wrap around his cock instead. Tom sucks in air like he’s been punched, curling in until his head is resting on Mike’s shoulder. He takes a handful of shaky breaths before biting down on Mike’s shoulder, muffling his scream as he comes.

They breathe together for a minute before Mike starts to twitch, just a little. He can feel Tom smile against his shoulder. “Love you,” he whispers in Mike’s ear before he tips them sideways and twists to land on his back. If Mike had more brain cells functioning in conjunction right now, he’d be really impressed.

“C’mon, Mikey,” he says with a filthy grin. “Your turn.”

Unsurprisingly, that’s all the encouragement Mike needs. He catches his breath sprawled across Tom, relaxed further by the random patterns Tom’s tracing across his shoulders. 

“Mikey?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“The blanket’s not so bad. Maybe it doesn’t need to go back to the closet.”

Mike tries to suppress a grin, but mostly fails. Tom rolls his eyes and pokes him in the side. “C’mon, come shower with me. And then you’re taking me to lunch since my sandwich is ruined.”

“Is that all?”

“And I get to pick our Halloween costumes!” Tom shouts from the bathroom.

“Sure, babe, whatever you want.”   How bad can that possibly be?

  
  
  


**** TWO WEEKS LATER ****

 

“Tommy, you home?” Mike dumps his lunch bag on the counter.

“In here!” Tom’s voice floats down the hall.

In here is their bedroom - and he’s still giggling inside a little bit that it really is  _ their bedroom _ now - where Tom is struggling with a big, round, something-or-other that looks like it’s been made out of cardboard and duct tape.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Tom looks up, beaming. “Hey babe.” He pulls Mike in by his tie for the kind of kiss that normally means Mike is being distracted from something on purpose.

Knowing that doesn’t mean pulling away is any less of a struggle.

“Hold that thought, okay, and answer my question?” He loosens his tie so he can slip the whole thing over his head. 

Tom lets go of the other end with a pout. “Fine. It’s our Halloween costumes for the bar party. You said I could pick, remember?”

Mike hides his smile in the closet as he hangs up his jacket. “Yeah, baby, I remember.”

“Okay, well, this is mine.”

While he’s been busy with the closet, Tom’s sorted out his costume. He is now sort of wearing something that looks like--

“Is that a volleyball?”

“Yep! Needed to make sure it was going to fit before I put the finishing touches on.”

“What are the finishing touches?” Mike’s kind of scared to ask.

Tom pokes at his phone and then turns the screen to show Mike a very close-up shot of Wilson, the volleyball from  _ Castaway _ . Which means….

“What exactly do you think I’m going to be wearing?” Mike asks suspiciously.

“Okay, so, hear me out before you say no. I think it’ll be funny, and you’re totally going to be the sexiest person there.”

Mike sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and resisting the urge to leave the room. “Fine, let me see it.”

“It” is a horrible wig, an even more horrible beard, a stick, a FedEx box, and possibly a very long towel. And nothing else. 

“Are you serious.”

“100 percent serious.”

“I’m going to freeze.”

“But you’re gonna look damn good during, so not a total loss, right? Besides, the party’s inside. You’ve just got to get from the car to the door.”

Mike stands at the foot of his bed, looking at this horrible “costume” piled haphazardly on top of a fuzzy blue Maple Leafs blanket, and wonders why he’s putting up any kind of argument in the first place. For one, he did tell Tom he could pick the costumes. That may have been a bad call, but live and learn. And to be candidly honest with himself….. The chances of him saying “no” to Tom have always been very low and have gotten even worse in recent months. 

He’s going to get chirped about this for the rest of his life. 

“I hope you realize how lucky you are that I love you, so I am willing to do really embarrassing things for you.”

Tom’s celebratory fist pump almost catches Mike in the mouth, but he makes up for it.

He also has to make his costume again - the cardboard doesn’t survive his very enthusiastic “thank you”.


End file.
